


Burnt

by tealgreenhealingbeam



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware - Fandom
Genre: (Benrey is They/Themrey), (Can be read as Frenrey/Freelatta/Frenreylatta but it's not a focus!), (Tommy uses he/they pronouns), Apologies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Blood, Obvious Lack of Knowledge About Jurassic Park, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29775651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealgreenhealingbeam/pseuds/tealgreenhealingbeam
Summary: Bubby accidentally repeats something he said during the betrayal. In what follows, he comes to a realization.He's never apologized.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 71





	Burnt

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings in (roughly) chronological order: detailed description of a panic attack, lightly detailed description of mild blood and injury, lightly detailed memory of an attack and amputation, detailed PTSD flashback, brief mention of self-hating thoughts.
> 
> If you feel I've missed a warning or you'd like one added, please let me know!

After Tommy's birthday, Science Team outings are a near daily occurrence. It's the fourth day out when it fully comes to light just how much Bubby, Coomer, and Benrey have missed out on, having hardly or even _never_ once left Black Mesa, and Gordon took it upon himself then and there to have them experience anything and everything he deemed important. His version of important prominently included: music, both classics and more obscure tracks and groups, food at all the places he thought they would like best, his favorite walking trails in and around the city, and now, movies. 

They were going down the list of classics, and this weekend was for Jurassic Park. Gordon was stoked, Tommy was a fan himself, and Benrey was excited for it too, after Gordon mentions dinosaurs were the focus, Benrey asking what the fuck a dinosaur was, and a quick Google search's image results had them wide-eyed and impatient for the movie to start. 

This was one of Gordon's favorites, and he'd be damned if he didn't pull out all the stops. Cozy blankets he bought earlier in the week for each of them, in patterns and colors that reminded him of their intended recipient, strands of lights draped above the windows to cast soft light over the room, and popcorn made the best way it could be: stovetop.

Gordon's just poured in the kernels, promptly replacing the lid as he scours his cabinets for either five small-sized suitable bowls, or two to three big ones, absentmindedly talking about the film while they wait.

"I think it's- normally when people say you have to read the book before watching the movie, I think that that's bullshit and just kinda gate-keeper-ish, y'know? It's stupid! But in this case, I'd maybe... kinda have to agree? Like-- I don't know, for me, at least, I think you just look at the entire movie differently if you r--" 

Admittedly, it's been a while since he's made popcorn this way, and Gordon completely forgot that means needing to shake the pot often, otherwise...

"Aw, fuck!" A strong smell immediately overtakes his small kitchen as the popcorn burns, varying levels of distress coming from the living room soon after. 

"Fuck, bro!" Benrey whines, followed by a loud string of Sweet Voice.

"Oh dear, Gordon, it appears as though the popcorn is no longer edible!"

"Mr. Freeman, that's- do you need help?"

"Shit, guys, I'm sorry. Nah, nah, Tommy, I'm good. I'll get a new batch goin' in a second. Gah, fuck!" A spray of oil splashes onto his arm when Gordon moves the pot over to the sink.

"Hah! Your stupid ass fucked up, Gordon!" Bubby snorts.

Immediately, Gordon's heart feels like it stutters and stops. 

_You fucked up._ Oh, fuck. Those words cause him to spiral quicker than he could recognize it was happening. _He fucked up._ That's why- that's why they sold him out, wasn't it? They planned this, Bubby and Benrey, whispering when they thought he wouldn't hear. And the... the soldiers were waiting to strike him down, but they weren't about to stop at beating the shit out of him. One's reaching for the combat knife on his belt, and the pain, _fuck,_ the pain on his arm-- that's right, they're _cutting his arm off--_

Gordon's hand has flown over his chest, grasping so tight onto his shirt that his knuckles are white, breathing in piercing, high-pitched gasps. He stumbles back, sending two of his bowls to the ground, and they shatter immediately, one partially falling over his foot and breaking the skin, ceramic sent sprawling across the tile in dozens upon dozens of pieces everywhere else. He collapses. The sight of blood and bite of pain, the black dotting his vision from the hyperventilation, the few kernels still popping... it all serves to make the attack worsen steeply, all furthering the reality Gordon believes he's a part of. He's back in Black Mesa- no, _he never left-_ in pitch black darkness, in the room they lured him into, and the lights went out, there's distant gunfire, glass breaking--

"Gordon! Gordon, you're safe, you're at home--" But Gordon's not hearing the words at all. His gasps pick up in pitch as he scrambles through the shards, not noticing or not caring of the few that cut his hand and legs, backing himself into the corner of his cabinets as everyone nears to help him. He cries out and folds in on himself, hands thrown defensively over his head as he trembles and wails.

Tommy gasps after coming to a realization. "Th- I think this... this is reminding him of the jump. What you said..."

"Shit. You're... you're right. I--" Bubby immediately goes quiet, folding his arms over his chest and stepping back. Benrey comes to a silent understanding and backs up with him, and both make sure they're out of Gordon's line of sight, exchange knowing glances laced with acknowledgement. Concern. Remorse.

"Gordon?" Tommy begins softly. "Gordon, you're at home. We're in your kitchen. I-it was movie night tonight. You burnt popcorn, some oil- there w- some oil spilled on your arm, a couple bowls broke, and the- the breaks-- you cut your arms and legs on the pieces, but you're okay. You're-- you're safe. Can you tell me what you need right now?"

Gordon is able to let the smallest amount of tension go from his body, trying to draw in air beyond the shudders and hiccups he currently breathes in with. He tries to speak, but all that leaves his mouth is an involuntary whimper that breaks off into a sob. He buries his face into the sleeve of his sweatshirt trying to muffle his cries.

"It's okay. This feels bad, but it's-- it'll pass... we're all here. You're safe. Are you okay being touched?"

Gordon nods in a tremor.

Tommy nears, rubbing his back soothingly for a moment before they pull him against their chest, lets him cry and hold onto them tightly. They wait until his sobs lighten before asking him to focus on their breathing and match it, and Gordon's come down just enough to hear them and follow along. He takes in fifteen breaths, Tommy counts them out mentally, before they speak up again.

"Can you tell us what you need now?"

Gordon knows spoken words aren't going to work for him right now and tries to sign instead, but his hands shake far too heavily for anything to come through clearly. Instead, he opts for a single sign, a simple one, hand to his ear, pinky and thumb extended from a fist.

"Phone."

Coomer passes it to Tommy, who hands it to Gordon, and his trembling fingers accidentally open a few other apps before opening his notes. He has to take several tries to type out a list before it's legible enough.

  * _ffirst y aid kir hallp closest_

  * _migreain meds bathroon cbnet_

  * _weighnted blann ket bedrooom_

  * _gheadpho nes bedroom_

  * _alll kithen lights on_

  * _wwate r_

  * _spmeon stayy here plwas e_




The Team speaks briefly about who'll head where, and they disband, splitting in different directions after getting all the lights on, and before he can really realize where that leaves him, Bubby has been the one elected to stay with Gordon. He didn't think this was the best call, but he couldn't do much to object to it now.

"Gordon?" Bubby speaks as softly and soothingly as he can manage while lowering slowly in front of Gordon, but he still flinches and tenses visibly. "Everyone's left to get the things you asked for, but we're all right here. I'm going to leave for a second to find a broom and get you a glass of water, alright?" 

He's really leaving more because he's assuming his voice and presence aren't doing the attack any favors, but the second Bubby moves to stand, Gordon's hand shoots out and grabs onto his wrist in a vice-like grip, shaking his head fervently.

"Alright. I'll stay right here. Could you give me five things you see?"

Gordon shakes his head again, clumsily pats a hand over his throat.

"Ah, that's alright." Bubby pauses a minute before trying something different. "Can you hold out your hand?"

He recoils at the question, but before Bubby can apologize, Gordon nods and obliges. Bubby taps his index on the back of Gordon's hand in a short, patterned burst that he picks up on and shakily returns. They repeat this about seven or eight times more before Gordon's breathing has more or less evened out, and words work for him again.

"Sorry," Gordon speaks around a shuddered sigh.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Wanted- I wanted y- you to see--"

"We can watch it another time. There's no hurry."

Gordon sniffles, buries his head in his knees, still pulled taut against his chest. "Wanted it t- to be... tonight. I ruined it. Fuc- fucked up the night for- f-for... everyone. Always... always fuck up--"

"Enough. You didn't fuck up a damned thing. I was careless and said something I shouldn't have. How you reacted was _not_ your fault. It's barely been half a year, Gordon. No one expects you to get better and move on overnight, so you shouldn't expect that, either. I know you love giving yourself a hard time, but goddamn, try to be fair to yourself for once, just _once."_

Gordon barks out a laugh, sniffling and shaking when Benrey returns to lay the weighted blanket over his shoulders and leave his headphones at his side. Gordon relaxes even further once the headphones are connected and his playlist starts up, slumping back against the cabinets. He lets his eyes slide shut for a moment before realizing with a chill that he really, _really_ can't stand the dark right now, even if it's from behind his own eyelids.

Watching this man, this incredibly caring, brilliant man look so thoroughly broken and terrified, the man who led their group through the end of the world with a smile, thought and acted so selflessly, even now, even in the little day-to-day, Bubby is fully coming to understand how poorly he's done by Gordon. How he's continued to give Gordon shit, though not sincerely, even when he's done everything not only to make Bubby's life easier, but to make it as fun and memorable as possible. Bubby thinks on how Gordon has remembered all his favorite restaurants, knows his favorites down to appetizers and desserts, how Gordon can recall his favorite bands, sends him playlists every other week, how Gordon comes back home with little gifts for each of them almost every time he goes shopping, how he just had to get it because he thought they might like it.

Then, another thought creeps through all the rest with the intensity of being struck by a bullet train. Not only has Bubby never put in the effort Gordon has, but now he's realizing he never even _apologized_ for selling him out, never said a word after they got out so much as _acknowledging_ that it even happened.

_"Gordon..."_ Bubby's voice cracks before he clears his throat and tries again. "If there's anyone who owes anyone an apology, it's me to you. I- god, I never apologized to you once, did I? Gordon, what happened to you should never have happened to begin with. It was a fucking horrible thing, what we did. What _I_ did." 

Coomer briefly interrupts by walking and setting the first aid kit in his husband's lap, parting kiss laid on his forehead before he heads back into the living room.

"It hurts like hell, hearing the man who got us all through hell think that _he's_ the one who fucks everything up. None of us would be here without you, Gordon. I need you to know that. I would tell you every day if you needed to hear it."

Gordon sniffles, buries himself further beneath his blanket as a new round of tears slide down his cheeks, red, swollen eyes searching the other man's, and Bubby knows in that moment what needs to be said and done.

Bubby scoots closer, goes slowly so Gordon can follow his movements, and pulls him into a hug that Gordon immediately sinks into, sobs openly into his shoulder as he releases every pent-up feeling, every reaction he's forced down, every thought he's put to the side and refused to acknowledge, all of it comes out now.

"I'm sorry, Gordon. I'm so terribly sorry. I know damn well an apology will never be enough to mend what I've done. You're stubborn about doing everyone right before yourself, but let it be said right now that you are never expected to forgive me, you understand me?"

Gordon only nods, sniffles and sighs as his arm encircle Bubby tighter, and even here, even now, Gordon Freeman finds a way to continue being the kindest person he's ever known.

_"Thank you,"_ he chokes out, and it's spoken so softly, barely audible at all, and uttered with such uncertainty, as though he's still taking the words in and is more in disbelief than anything else, in disbelief that he's receiving the compassion and understanding he deserved from the start. It makes Bubby hurt for him all over again.

At some point in their embrace, the floor's been swept completely clean, Tommy coming in soon after they part with painkillers and water. Coomer throws out the ruined popcorn, takes on the task of scrubbing the pot as Benrey and Bubby work over Gordon's wounds. Tonight, Bubby's done and confronted things he has purposefully ignored for a while now, so now, he works up the nerve and does something he's refused to for months now- he looks at Gordon's right arm, more than the fleeting glances and guilty side-eyes he's always regarded it with.

Making sure his staring goes unnoticed, Bubby's eyes trail along the scar visible above the prosthetic, the sharp, jagged path it takes across his skin. _The combat knife was serrated,_ the thought arrives unwillingly, and a shudder wracks itself down Bubby's spine imagining even for a second how excruciating the pain must have been. The guilt spikes in his stomach upon realizing that tonight, he caused Gordon to partially relive that, realizes that anything he could try to do to make up for it, to repay the kindness Gordon continues to extend, it will never be enough. Not just for the fact that he is permanently changed, physically and mentally, but because there will never come a time where Gordon will be able to look at him and not at least think in part of the jump. Bubby knows it's deserved, knows that it's not something either of them can control or do anything about, but god, does it hurt. All he can do now, he tells himself, is do his best to repay the extended consideration Gordon gives him every day. To start being the person Gordon's been for him.

The second they've finished patching him up, Gordon latches onto the person closest to him, Benrey, and they ask him a question so soft Bubby doesn't catch it, but after Gordon nods and Benrey scoops him up into their arms, the question was as clear as the answer.

Gordon's all but limp as he's moved, a sight that shouldn't be familiar to them all, shouldn't spark a wave of panic that floods their heart and lungs with the memories that follow, but it does. They have all been changed, all been damaged by Black Mesa in so many separate, irreparable ways, but they're together, and no one or thing could stand to keep them apart now.

Benrey carefully sets him down on the couch, lowers themself slowly against his right side as Tommy asks if he can scoot in on his left, and Gordon nods almost immediately. Coomer gently pulls Gordon's phone from his hand, opens an app and hits a few points along a menu, and his playlist is now quietly pouring from the TV speakers. Gordon hums and smiles, holds his gaze on Coomer through half-lidded eyes so openly appreciative and fond. The other man beams at that, steps forward to run a warm, soothing hand over Gordon's hair, and he sighs, long and slow, and sinks further into the couch. Coomer pulls away, drapes Gordon's blankets for Benrey and Tommy over each of them respectively, and as he's about to grab a throw from the armchair for Gordon, Bubby's at his side and lowering his blanket over him instead. 

Even when he's barely awake, Bubby is amazed that Gordon still finds a way to be the wonderful, compassionate man he's known him to be for months now. Gordon blinks up at him, gives a small smile filled with genuine, unfiltered gratitude, and is out nearly the very moment he tucks his head under Tommy's chin to lay against his chest.

If he's up for it tomorrow, Bubby's thinking of taking Gordon out for a late breakfast at his favorite place and a long drive for a well-needed talk that he's been avoiding for far too long. A conversation Gordon needs. 

A first step to be a person Gordon deserves.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short one-shot idea I had on a list of ideas I want to write! The Science Team's dynamics are so important to me. I care them.
> 
> This could technically occur after the events of Atone/Entice, but you don't have to read that one to understand this one at all! They can be totally separate.
> 
> I'm clearly projecting onto Gordon Freeman: I also burn stovetop popcorn almost every time I make it because I try to do several other things or I just forget where I am. My hubris.


End file.
